


oh, windless day within me (silence and sun)

by bizzybee



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, First Kiss, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Time Skip, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24936589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzybee/pseuds/bizzybee
Summary: "Felix still feels like he's opened a door he can never close. Dimitri's reached straight into his chest and pulled out his heart, but it's not the bloody way Felix thought he'd die. Instead it's quiet, and calm, and cream sheets in a barren bedroom, blonde hair touched by the light of dusk and a single blue eye watching over him.".Felix can't remember a time in his life when Dimitri wasn't by his side.He can remember a time, though, when Dimitri was himself. When they were both kids. When they weren't tainted by the deaths of their loved ones and everything they held dear.Maybe, though, he can make new memories. Someday, he thinks, he will be able to remember what brought them back together again.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	oh, windless day within me (silence and sun)

**Author's Note:**

> **CW:** Felix has a panic attack in the second half of this fic. If that is triggering for you, please skip from the paragraph that starts, "It's almost instinctive, the way Felix shoves Dimitri," to, "He wishes Dimitri were a worse person." 
> 
> Special shoutout to Kelsey for editing this, and to Sydney for telling me, "Hey you should write Dimilix," to which I said, "Okay." 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Ethereal Moon, 1167**

* * *

Felix's hand is too small to grip around the handle of a knife. 

He tries to hold it anyway, wrist rotating back and forth, ignoring the increasingly pointed looks his father gives him from further down the pew. 

Glenn gave it to him, anyway, and it's not like he's distracting anyone. 

Besides, sermons are boring when he's forced to attend, and no matter how much he loves Dimitri, he’s reading slower than a mule, and it’s making Felix even more antsy than usual.

So, instead of listening, he stabs imaginary enemies, twirling the knife over his fingers clumsily again and again. 

That is, until his father reaches over and snatches it from his hands.

Felix huffs, leaning back against the wooden bench and crossing his arms. It’s so unfair. It’s not like he hasn’t started his training already. Glenn gets to carry a knife with him everywhere. He blinks rapidly, fighting back the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, Dimitri’s form blurring in front of him. He will not cry. He will not cry. He will  _ not- _

His father tells him after the sermon that Felix needs to be more respectful towards the Goddess. Felix bows his head, heart tight with shame. But then, Glenn hands him back the knife with a wink and a hand through his hair, and everything is forgotten as Felix rushes out of the chapel, leaving his father, his brother, and the Goddess behind.

He finds Dimitri outside and immediately plops down on the grass next to him, ignoring Dimitri’s glum expression in favor of slicing up blades of grass with his knife and dropping them into a pile between them. He has to reach up and brush back his hair from the breeze too often, and he wishes he’d remembered his tie back at home.

"How did you memorize all that?" Felix asks after a few silent moments. It'll be his turn to perform his Recitations in two months, and he just knows he's never going to be able to remember it all.

"I practiced with a tutor," Dimitri says dejectedly, his head in his hands. "But I just know Father noticed when I messed up 'there' and 'everywhere.'"

Felix would reach out to comfort him, but he's much too busy with his knife, pressing it down into the crease of a grass blade. "I'm sure he didn't even notice."

"He did," Dimitri sighs. "I could tell."

"It'll be fine," Felix says. "I'm sure I'll mess mine up, too. Prob'ly cry the whole way through it." He sniffs. 

"No you won't." Dimitri says. He reaches out, covering Felix's hands with one of his. Felix reluctantly looks up, knife stilling. "You're gonna do great, Felix." 

Felix smiles shyly. "Thanks Dimitri." He sniffs again. "You did really good."

Dimitri grins, all previous sadness forgotten. "Thanks! Are you coming to the dinner tonight with your dad to celebrate?" 

Felix shrugs, looking back down at the grass. He's created a neat little pile of split strands. "Dunno," he says. Maybe he can weave the strands into a mat. That would look nice. "Maybe. I’ll have to see what my dad says."

Before he can reach for the pile, though, a gust of wind scatters the grass to the open sky, leaving nothing behind but a dead patch of soil and a knife.

* * *

**Horsebow Moon, 1176**

* * *

Eight years later, Felix wakes up in a brand new world. He hasn’t seen Glenn in months, and now he’ll never see him again. 

He supposes he should count his blessings. Dimitri lost his whole family. Dimitri had to watch them die, one by one in front of him, and there’s nothing he could do. 

Then again, there’s nothing Felix could’ve done, either. Now he’s without a brother. Dimitri is without a family. Faerghus is without a king. 

The royal family’s funeral is to be a country-wide event, but Glenn’s wake will happen days before, with fewer people, at the Basilica nearest to the Fraldarian estate. 

Felix is surprised to see Dimitri there, and even more surprised when he realizes he doesn’t want to see Dimitri coming to mourn his brother. How is he supposed to be sad, with his father on one side of him saying Glenn died for a cause and so tears have no use, and Dimitri on the other side with no father, no mother, nothing more but an uncle who he’s barely even met? 

It’s easy, he decides. He simply will not be sad. He will not cry, even as the tears start to well in his eyes. He will set his jaw, and he will lay the ceremonial wreath on Glenn’s chest, and then he will watch as everyone Glenn has ever known says goodbye forever. 

The sadness twists itself into a knot in his stomach, turning over and kneading into a pulp as he looks at nothing but the ground. 

He can feel Dimitri’s presence beside him, even before he notices his shadow appear beside his own. “I’m sorry about Glenn,” Dimitri says. His voice cracks, but Felix can’t tell if it’s from sorrow or Dimitri’s changing voice that he’d been so proud of just last week. 

Felix doesn’t answer. He knows he'll start crying if he does. 

He can hear Dimitri’s sigh, can feel his shoulders rise and fall beside him. “If there’s anything I can do for you, Felix-” 

“That’s my job,” Felix cuts in, then shuts his mouth, lifting his head to look at Dimitri. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.”

“You lost your whole family. I should be the one asking you.” Felix lets his gaze drop again, a scowl on his face for reasons he can't explain. 

“It’s alright, Felix.” Dimitri says. How is he so calm?  _ Why _ is he so calm? In three days he'll have to do this with his family, albeit with many more people and much more of the public. If anything, it makes Felix angry. 

Anger isn’t a feeling he’s used to. 

He crosses his arms. Along with his anger, he feels something he would soon come to recognize as shame. He doesn't yet know the word for it, though. All he knows is as he looks down at Glenn’s lifeless body, and then back up at his father, and then at Dimitri, he feels as though he really, truly, does not have a place at his own brother’s funeral. 

When Dimitri lays a hand on his shoulder, Felix shakes it off. The room is shrinking, the walls morphing to fit Glenn's shape, and Felix can hear everything, noises becoming more amplified the smaller the room gets. Dimitri’s breathing. The echoing footsteps of funeral goers on the marble floors His father muttering to another knight on the other side of the pyre. His own heart, pounding in his chest, every beat reminding him that Glenn is dead and he is not.

He’s not going to cry. 

A tear crawls down his cheek and gets caught in the hollow above his lip. He bites down on it, stepping forward.

Glenn's eyes are pointed at the ceiling, dry and empty and dead.

* * *

**Garland Moon, 1178**

* * *

The last thing Felix wants to do in his life is follow in Glenn's footsteps, but when his father says he’s found Felix a position as a squire under House Rowe, who is he to say no?

He had tried to say no. He had tried. 

And now, he's untacking a horse in the pouring rain, cold and wet, the leather straps stiff beneath his reddened fingers. It's dreary work, and Felix doesn't even like horses. 

He huffs. The horse huffs back. Felix retreats from the stall with its saddle and blanket, trudging through the mud to hang them on their hooks. 

He’s technically finished now, but he pauses for a moment, not wanting to enter the downpour again just yet. He squeezes his eyes shut, leaning against the wall where he’d just hung the saddle. 

Goddess. 

He knows he should go back, change out of his bloody clothes, and then sleep and eat and drink until he passes out and tries to forget what he’s seen. 

But the sight of Dimitri, face blood-spattered and grinning, sadistically happy as he tore through enemy after enemy until he was surrounded by a pile of the dead can’t stop pushing its way to the forefront of Felix’s mind, ever present. 

Felix wonders if this is what it was like when Dimitri watched his family die. 

But even if it’s similar, he doubts that Dimitri laughed through it, that he fought in such a vicious and bloodcurdling way. 

Sure, Felix loves fights, but there was nothing to love in Dimitri's empty, red-tinged eyes. 

Eyes that, when Felix opens his, are staring back at him through the storm. 

"Flames," Felix curses, startling. 

"Felix." Gone is the man who killed all those people with such disregard. This Dimitri seems smaller, hair slicked back from the rain, eyes now round and blue and questioning.

"What are you doing here?" He doesn't mean to spit the words out, but he's having trouble believing Dimitri's mind is free from that… beast that took over his body.

Dimitri flinches. Felix hates that it brings him a strange sort of satisfaction. "I wanted to see if you needed help with the horses." 

"I don't," Felix says. "I just finished." 

"Ah." Now it's Felix's turn to flinch. Dimitri looks utterly heartbroken. 

"Not your job anyway, prince."

"I am always willing to help a friend."

Felix purses his lips. "You're half an hour and one rainstorm too late for that."

"Sorry," Dimitri says sheepishly. "Can I walk you back?"

“Nothing I can do to stop you,” Felix says, staring at the ground. 

“Splendid.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

The storm is raging even harder now, and the look Dimitri gives Felix, so deceptively open, like he’ll tell Felix anything if he could only gain the courage to ask, chills him to the bone faster than any storm could. 

A flash of lightning hits, followed closely by thunder. Dimitri flinches, staring at the sky with wild eyes. Felix peers at him closely. Is that monster of a man lurking, lingering just beneath the surface? Who knows what activates it? Dimitri could turn on him right now. Felix likes to believe he could take him, but then he remembers the brute strength Dimitri had shown earlier that day. He reconsiders, shivering. Thunder booms for a second time, loud enough to shake the ground beneath them. 

“Might we consider alternate forms of shelter?” Dimitri says, almost shouting to be heard over the storm. “We still have a ways to go…” 

It’s not that far, only a mere kilometer. But in this weather, Felix fears Dimitri may be right. 

He sighs. “Fine.” He grabs Dimitri’s arm, pulling him to the right. “There’s a chapel.” 

He doesn’t elaborate, and Dimitri, thankfully, doesn’t ask questions. In mere minutes, Felix is pushing open old, creaking doors, pulling Dimitri in after him.

The rain pounds on the roof above, but it’s quiet inside, save for the sounds of both Felix and Dimitri catching their breath. Dimitri sheds his cloak, and Felix shivers, regretting his decision to shuck down to his shirtsleeves before his untacking duties .

“You’re shivering,” Dimitri says, teeth chattering. 

“So are you,” Felix snaps. He turns away. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says. “Is everything alright?” 

Felix hesitates. He’s not sure if or how to answer the question, and his heart jumps at the thought of Dimitri’s potential reaction if he tells the truth.

He can’t lie, though, and he can’t look at Dimitri as he says this. He  _ won’t  _ look at Dimitri as he says this. The room feels too full and too empty at once, and he’s stuck in church with a demon. 

“You became a beast.” 

Dimitri says nothing. Felix can hear the water dripping from Dimitri’s wet cloak, pinging against the ground and filling the chapel with the smell of wet wool. 

“Don’t try and deny it.” 

“I deny nothing,” Dimitri says, voice level. 

Felix scoffs. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says. “Look at me.” 

Felix doesn’t move, save for crossing his arms and setting his jaw. 

“Felix,” Dimitri repeats, and Felix can feel him hovering over his shoulder. “I’m not sure what it is you want me to say.” 

“There’s nothing to say.” 

“I am sorry you had to see me like that. It wasn’t my intention to… to worry you, my friend.” 

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. He bites his lip hard enough to bleed.

He turns. 

“Worried?” he says, and he’s not sure if he’s imagining the flash in Dimitri’s eyes. “I wasn’t worried _. _ I felt anything but as I watched you rip a man’s head from his shoulders. You disgust me.”

“Felix-”

“And I know who you are now, D-” Felix cuts himself off, huffing. He reaches a hand out, stabbing his index finger into Dimitri’s chest. “You’re nothing but a monster. No, less than that. A pig. A boar.” 

Dimitri looks at him, eyes wide. The sound of their mingled breaths drowns out the pattering of the rain.

“Can I kiss you?” Dimitri says. 

Felix scowls, leaning back instinctively. Dimitri winces, taking a step backwards.

“Sorry-” 

Felix surges forward, and then he’s kissing Dimitri, and Dimitri’s lips are somehow warm despite the rain, and chapped, and his cheek is cold under Felix’s hand. 

Dimitri’s just starting to kiss back when Felix pushes him away. 

He can’t look at him. He can’t. Felix doesn’t know which would be worse: if he looked up and saw Dimitri, the beast; or Dimitri, his old friend. 

So he doesn’t look. He doesn’t stay. He pushes past Dimitri and stomps off into the storm, alone.

* * *

**Great Tree Moon, 1180**

* * *

Felix is able to avoid Dimitri until the end of his squireship, thank the Goddess.

In fact, he doesn't see the Boar for nearly two years. It's not until he, Ingrid, and Sylvain are invited to Fhirdiad for a feast celebrating their admission to the Officer's Academy that Felix’s avoidance tactics finally fail him

Felix stays at the party for as long as he can bear it, honest, but he's never been one for crowds. Not only that, but he can only deal with reeling in Sylvain for so long before he needs a break. 

With the moon high in the sky, Felix waves off Ingrid's questioning glances and slips out one of the side doors of the massive palace ballroom. 

It's cold in the hall, the chill of the night air defeating the warmth of the party that’s fighting to seep through the stone walls. Felix walks without a destination in mind. All he knows is that, soon, he’ll be gone from his father for an entire year. With any gift comes a sacrifice, though, and this one appears in the form of the Boar. His father even told him that he pulled strings to let them room next to each other. What will Felix hear at night? The sounds of his old friend losing his mind from nightmares? Banging against the walls, screaming his brains out?

Do monsters even sleep? 

Felix hates these thoughts. He hates that being in Fhirdiad, in Dimitri’s home, means that every time he closes his eyes he sees the wild abandon on Dimitri’s face, grinning to show sharpened blood-red rows of teeth. 

He’s not sure if that teeth bit was real. He hasn’t seen Dimitri smile since. 

A scuffling behind a closed door stops Felix both in his tracks and in his thoughts. He pauses. He recognizes that sigh that follows. 

He needs to get out of here. He’s turning back in the direction from whence he came when the door is thrown open, and he’s faced with the sight of Dimitri in his formalwear, hair shorter, eyes free from bloodlust.

“Felix,” Dimitri says, eyes widening. 

Felix watches as Dimitri bites his lip. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even huff. 

“Are you not enjoying the party?” Dimitri asks, his brow creasing.

“Are you?” Felix shoots back, crossing his arms.

“I must admit I am not as keen on parties as I was when I was younger,” Dimitri says, scratching the back of his neck with one hand and letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Hm.” 

“The noise, the crowds of people, it tends to bring up unpleasant memories.” The Boar shrugs, as if the fact that he’s no longer human is a mere inconvenience, something to be joked about in polite circles. 

Felix narrows his eyes. 

“You can come in, if you’d like,” Dimitri continues, holding open the door. 

Felix glances inside. 

It’s a shrine to Saint Cethleann. There’s water trickling from fountains, windows open to a moonlit courtyard, a statue in the center surrounded by forget-me-nots. 

Felix steps past Dimitri, not looking at him. This would almost be peaceful, if it weren’t for the Boar’s gaze drilled into the back of his neck in a way that Felix can feel. He wishes he’d let his hair down for this event. Then at least it could hide the flush he can feel flooding across his skin.

“Cethleann was always my favorite saint,” Dimitri says from the back of the room, then steps forward, joining Felix in front of the shrine. “Something about her just seems so… peaceful.” 

Felix grunts. 

“I like to come here to collect my thoughts,” Dimitri says. “I find it to be a calming space when I feel myself starting to become overwhelmed.”

_ I don’t care, _ Felix thinks.  _ I don’t care about your descent into madness. _

“But you probably don’t want to hear about all that.”

Felix purses his lips. They stand in silence. Felix can just make out the sounds of the party, two walls away. Dimitri is an ever-constant present beside him, broad and silent, looking not at Felix but at the statue of Saint Cethleann, tall and proud before them.

“If you do not wish to speak to me,” Dimitri says. “I understand.”

Felix turns his gaze to the ground. 

“Will we still be friends, Felix? At the Academy?” Dimitri’s voice has tightened, more unsure than Felix has ever heard it since they were small children. 

It’s pathetic. 

“I’m never going to be friends with a monster,” Felix says. “You’d do better searching for victims elsewhere, Boar.” 

Dimitri doesn’t respond, save for a sad, pathetic sigh. 

When Felix looks up again, he’s alone.

* * *

**Pegasus Moon, 1185**

* * *

Felix doesn’t say, “I told you so,” once the Boar proves him right, once he watches Dimitri as he crushes a man’s skull between his hands and kills an entire battalion with that same sick smile on his face. He’s not above saying it, certainly. But the look on his friends’ faces when they approach him after that day in the Holy Tomb tells him that they already know. 

Five years later, Sylvain shows up at Fraldarius. 

Two weeks after that, they end up at Garreg Mach. 

Felix doesn’t know if he’s surprised to see the Boar there, but he does know it doesn’t settle anything in his mind like he thought it would. He thought he’d be satisfied, knowing his old friend has fully devolved, but it unseats something deep in his heart that, if anything, leaves Felix feeling disjointed and uncertain.

The Boar either isn’t staying in his old room, or he’s somehow so silent at night that Felix can’t hear him through the thin walls. He believes it’s the former. He’s unsure if the Boar has even slept a wink these past five years. The dark circles, so deep set and purple under his eye, certainly leads Felix to the conclusion that he hasn’t. 

Then again, it's not like Felix is sleeping anymore, either.

When Mercedes approaches him in the Dining Hall, he can tell by the look on her face that he's not going to like what she's about to say. 

"Felix," she starts.

He's done for. 

"Have I ever told you about Emile?" She raises a hand to stop his protests before they come, sliding into a seat across from him. "Let me speak, please."

"Fine." He digs his fork into his fish.

"I know I told you a few years ago that you remind me of Emile," she continues, eyes taking on a glazed look that speaks of old memories and people they once were. "And I think that's still true." Mercedes purses her lips. "But do you want to know who he's come to remind me of more?" 

"I bet you're going to tell me." He really could just get up and walk away, but the only thing worse than Mercedes' glazed look is her look of empathetic disappointment she gets whenever anyone cuts her off. 

"He reminds me of Dimitri." Mercedes sets a hand on Felix's arm. He looks away. "They both have so much… anger," she says, smiling sadly. "And it turns them into people they're not supposed to be." 

Her thumb is stroking against Felix's arm, now, and he knows he should hate it. But it's all he can focus on now as she speaks, the way it seems to burn through his layers of clothing and pierce his skin. 

"I worry it might be too late for Emile. I wonder, if only I could have been there for him…" He looks up at Mercedes to see her shake her head, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "But it's no matter. I suppose what I mean to say is that it's not too late for Dimitri." 

She gives his arm a little squeeze before pulling away. Felix feels cold. 

"Oh, I don't pretend to understand the sort of relationship the two of you have, but I do know Dimitri. And I think Dimitri really needs a friend right now." 

Before he even recognizes what he's doing, Felix has pushed himself away from the table, nearly knocking over his bench with the speed in which he stands. "We're not friends."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I only thought-" 

"He's dead, Mercedes. And soon your brother will be, too. May as well accept it.” 

She doesn’t protest when he turns around and leaves. 

It’s stupid, Felix thinks as he marches back towards the dorms. This whole thing is stupid, and Mercedes has no idea what she’s talking about. 

And even if she’s right, what does it matter? Why is it Felix’s responsibility to try with The Boar? He knows objectively it’s not, and knows even deeper down that that’s not what Mercedes meant in the first place when she asked him to reach out. But whatever the case may be, it doesn’t matter. The person who the Boar used to be is dead. There’s simply nothing left to save. 

Felix isn’t surprised, though, when instead of taking him back to his room where he can mope in peace, his footsteps lead him towards the Cathedral. 

The breeze from the bridge feels stronger than it ever did back during his Academy days, and Felix considers just staying here. He’s never been devout in the best of times, and his faith in the Goddess has pretty much been destroyed throughout the course of a losing war. There’s still something peaceful about the ruins of what was once so majestic. His thoughts are so loud lately, but in the Cathedral, with the sounds of gales ripping through the holes in the roof and the glittering of broken stained glass on the ground, they tend to quiet, if only for a moment. 

The back of the Boar’s cape is an unwelcome sight in Felix’s place of reprieve. He’s pacing back and forth in front of the largest pile of rubble, muttering what sounds like a combination of nonsense and death threats. 

“Boar.” Felix stops a safe distance from him, crossing his arms. 

The Boar turns, eyes fading from angry and empty to empty and confused with an uncountable number of emotions between. “Glenn?” he says, voice almost too small for Felix to hear. 

Felix’s jaw sets. He doesn’t say anything, merely watches as the Boar curls in on himself, eye twitching, eyelid fluttering, mouth moving silently as his shoulders jerk back and forth before he turns away, back to the rubble. 

This is hopeless. 

Hopeless. 

“I’m not Glenn,” he calls anyway.

He’s expecting the Boar to scream at him, to grab a piece of sharp plaster off the ground and try to run him through, but the Boar does none of those things. 

Instead, he turns again, and with the surety of a much saner man, moves towards Felix with a steady step. The Boar stops mere inches away, and Felix resists the urge to step back, staring the Boar down with a gaze as hard as ice. 

The Boar’s hand is surprisingly soft when he lifts it to cup Felix’s cheek. It’s so large it fits easily, cupping under Felix’s jaw and brushing behind his ears. 

“I’m not Glenn,” Felix repeats. He can’t read the Boar’s mind like he used to be able to, and the emotions that flash across his face only read of confusion, anger, and some other nuance Felix can’t place. 

“I should kill you,” the Boar mutters, and Felix doesn’t flinch. The Boar’s grip tightens. 

“Maybe you should.” 

A grim smile. “Soon we’ll all be dead.”

Felix swallows. 

The Boar releases him and steps back, eye doing its strange fluttering motion once again. When it stops, his eye goes blank again, nothing but empty anger settling into the creases along his brow.

He doesn't say anything else, just growls at Felix's still form and turns away.

Felix doesn't leave. Doesn't step closer. He just stands there, watching the Boar's wide, unmoving form and wanting.

* * *

**Garland Moon, 1186**

* * *

Only two people ask Felix how he's doing after his father dies. Half his friends don't think to. The other half see the look on his face and reconsider. 

Sylvain tries. He tries with a hand on Felix's shoulder on the walk back to Garreg Mach. He tries with a "Hey, Fe," and a smile that's both too fake and too real at once. 

Felix picks up his pace. Sylvain doesn't try to catch up. 

The second person is Mercedes. Rodrigue doesn't have a funeral, but a memorial. Felix doesn't attend, and no one tries to force him to. 

That night, though, there's a knock on his door. 

"Felix? It's me, Mercedes." 

He doesn't answer. Doesn't move from his bed. 

"Felix, I brought you pepper poppers. Can we talk for a moment?"

He really doesn't want to talk to Mercedes right now. If there's anyone he wants to talk to, it's nobody. Or Glenn. 

It seems as though neither of those things will become true, though, because Mercedes doesn't ask again. Instead, she pushes into his room, taking one look at Felix on the bed and walking over, setting the basket of poppers on his nightstand. 

"Oh, Felix," she says, and even though there's no pity in her voice, Felix hears it anyway.

"What do you want."

"Oh, I just wanted to see if you needed to talk." Mercedes hesitates, then takes a seat at the edge of Felix's bed. "If not, then I at least wanted to bring you food. Annie helped me make these, you know. The least you could do is say thank you."

Felix stares at the ceiling. This seems to suit Mercedes just fine, and she rearranges her skirts, taking a popper from the basket and eating it in one bite.

They sit in silence, Mercedes eating the poppers, Felix not moving. 

"You know, Felix," Mercedes says into the silence. "If you don't want to talk to me, you could talk to Ashe or Dimitri. They know better what you're going through."

She continues, "I didn't have that good of a relationship with my father, either, but at least it wasn't complicated like yours was. I'm sorry you never had the opportunity to find him again, Felix."

Felix blinks. 

"I'll leave you be now, I suppose,” Mercedes said. “Know you can talk to me if you need to, Felix.” She reaches forward, hesitating before brushing a few sweaty strands of hair off of his forehead. “Enjoy the poppers, okay?” 

And then the weight on his bed lifts. By the time he turns his head, he’s alone in his room once again.

* * *

There’s whispers that Dimitri has changed again when Felix finally leaves his room again. Felix doesn’t know if he believes them. He refuses to seek the Boar out. If he’s really changed, if he’s really human again, he can find Felix. Besides that, Felix doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Ashe has been trying to have more meals with him lately, offering kind smiles and invitations to talk. He doesn’t care that half of the army steers clear of him in the hallways, avoids his steely looks like your father dying might be contagious. He doesn’t care about Rodrigue, or the Boar, or anything else in his life that doesn’t revolve around this war and the idea that it’ll be over soon. 

It also bodes poorly that, apparently, the Boar has yet to leave the Cathedral ever since his supposed transformation. It had been his resting place as the Boar. Felix had lost his faith in the Goddess with every night he visited the Boar, the sunset framing the eaves of the chapel like an unholy halo, a monster in the wreckage that an army had created. 

When there’s a strong knock at his door, he assumes it’s Mercedes, with more food, or maybe Ingrid, here to drag him out of his room for training. 

He’s not too keen on the idea of Ingrid kicking down his door again, so he crosses his room, throwing it open. 

The question he’s forming dies on his lips at the first glance of a blue feather cape. 

“Felix.” He looks surprised. 

“Boar.” Felix doesn’t move, one hand on the doorknob, ready to shut him out at any whisper of the beast. “What do you want.” 

Dimitri blinks.

_ Why the hell did he come here, _ Felix thinks,  _ if he’s just going to stand here like a buffoon? _

“I wanted to speak with you,” the Boar says. 

Felix doesn’t answer, but hates the way his treacherous feet shift in their place. Even more than that, he hates the way it makes the Boar’s face light up with something. A realization, maybe. A glimmer of hope.

“May I come in?” It’s a question. An invitation. 

“As the Boar Prince demands,” Felix says bluntly, stepping aside. 

The Boar takes a seat at the foot of Felix’s bed. Felix crosses his arms in front of the door, not moving. 

“You may sit, if you so desire,” the Boar invites. 

Felix doesn’t answer. 

The Boar sighs. He unclasps his cloak, hanging the blue and black monstrosity over Felix’s desk chair. Felix peers closely at it. No bloodstains. He wonders who cleaned it for him. Surely, it wasn’t this creature before him. 

“I have come to apologize, Felix.” 

The Boar’s gaze is unnerving. Felix doesn’t think he’s looked into his eye since the last and only time he approached him in the Cathedral. It’s much different than it was back then. Now, his gaze seems almost scared, but open, and much too genuine for Felix’s taste. 

“Okay,” Felix says. “Let’s hear it, before I lose my patience and do something you’ll regret.” 

Added to the list of surprises is the strange and awful relieved smile that comes over Dimitri’s face. “You will truly let me speak with you?” 

Felix doesn’t answer idiotic questions. He raises his chin in the air. 

“Right,” the Boar says, giving his head a shake. He bites his lip, and Felix watches intently, waiting for that telltale twitch of an eye or flutter of an eyelash that means he’s reverting back to his more natural state. 

“Felix, I have been a poor friend to you and a poor ruler to our country.” 

Felix scoffs. 

Dimitri nods. “Yes, I believe I deserve that.” He sighs, and it’s a strange sound, so different from the way he’s been over the past six years. What was once maniacal is now soft, what was once frightening is now sheepish. The Boar scratches the back of his neck, continuing. “You are the only one that knew who could see that something was wrong. I owe you a great debt, my friend.” 

Felix clenches his jaw. The Boar doesn’t speak again, and his steady gaze makes Felix want to crawl out of his skin. Silence settles over the room like molasses, slow and thick. Felix wishes Dimitri would stop looking at him like that. He wishes the Boar would open his mouth and call him Glenn, to fill this silence that should be comfortable but instead reeks of broken relationships and open wounds. 

“Has my father joined your legions of the dead?” Felix asks, if only to break the tension filling the room. 

Dimitri’s expression doesn’t change. “He has.” 

Felix rolls his eyes. Flames, this doesn’t even mean anything. 

“Felix, it is not the way you think,” the Boar says. Now, his expression changes, to something pleading, begging almost. 

“They’re dead, Boar-”

“I know that,” Dimitri says, and Felix is so shocked by the idea of the Boar interrupting him that his jaw snaps shut. “I know they are dead, Felix, in a way that I couldn’t know before.” His eye slides closed. “I am unsure if I will ever stop seeing them, Felix,” he says. “It is not so simple as that.” 

The Boar sighs, running a hand down his face. “The most I can give to you right now is the fact that they are quieter. They tell me to kill less. Their threats are slowing more with each passing day. I know that is not enough. It may never be enough. But even so, it is all that I can offer.”

Felix waits. He’s not sure what for. For Dimitri to crack. For anything. If what he says is true, then Felix may not know what to think anymore. His mind races, and he can barely hold a thought before it’s replaced. One word reverberates like a motif, though, and he’s worried if he says it, he’ll start to believe it. 

He says it anyway. 

“Okay,” Felix says, eyes closing as if to let the word settle. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Dimitri says, and Felix opens his eyes again. 

“Don’t just repeat what I said like an idiot,” Felix snaps, then forces himself to take a deep breath. “You’re right. It will never be enough.” He pauses. “But okay.”

He meets the Boar’s gaze readily now. “You should abdicate the throne.” 

“You’re right.” 

“I know.” 

“I wouldn’t know who to abdicate to.”

Felix shrugs. “Not my problem.”

To his surprise, Dimitri laughs. 

To his greater surprise, it makes Felix smile. 

“Do you still hate me?” Dimitri implores once he’s settled down. “I must say, Felix, I miss your companionship.” 

“I do,” Felix admits. 

“I know things cannot be how they were when we were younger,” Dimitri sighs, forlorn this time as his vision goes slack, eye drooping. “But if something new could blossom in the ashes of the people we used to be, please know that I still care for you.”

Felix can feel his breath start to quicken, the room start to shrink. An apology, he can handle. An ask for friendship and an admission of… something, and he feels utterly lost at sea. 

That had happened, once, when he had gone sailing with Dimitri. Rodrigue and Dimitri’s father had decided to take them on an expedition, and the sword fight they constructed on the deck of the boat had taken both of them right up to the edge, and Felix over it. 

The shock of the ice-cold Faerghan water had dulled his senses for a moment, and the quiet world under the sea was nothing compared to the chaos Felix heard when he emerged. There was screaming, and calling, and somewhere, Dimitri sobbing, but he was far too disoriented to figure out which way he should swim. 

By the time they had thrown him a line and Felix had been reeled back in, a warm blanket and a shivering hug from his father wrapped around his shoulders, he believed that it was all a grand adventure, eager to tell Sylvain and Ingrid the next time he saw them. 

It’s a similar feeling, now, having the Boar stare at him as though he’s something that he can wait for. It makes Felix’s stomach turn like the waves, his brain buzzing like the yells of his father, his heart tight and constricted like the sound of Dimitri’s tears. 

He reaches out for a lifeline. 

“Fine,” he says. “I suppose something new would be acceptable.” A pause, then he adds, “I still hate you though.” 

“That is fair,” Dimitri says. “I hate myself at times, too.” 

Without him noticing, Felix’s jaw had unclenched. His arms had dropped to his sides. He once again stares at Dimitri while Dimitri stares back. 

“I’ve missed you,” Felix blurts without thinking, “Dimitri.”

He barely flinches when Dimitri stands. 

“Felix,” he says. “Do you remember that evening, back when you were a squire-” 

“Stop.”  _ Of course I do,  _ Felix thinks. After all, how could he forget the feeling of Dimitri’s lips on his so soon after he’d seen him turn into a beast? He regrets it, sure, but that doesn’t mean that he can forget it. 

“Would it be entirely out of line if I were to ask-”

“Shut up.” Felix says, eyes narrowing. 

He isn’t sure if he’ll regret it this time, but it doesn’t stop him from crossing the room, cupping Dimitri’s face with calloused hands, and pulling him in for a kiss. 

He’s surprised at how soft Dimitri’s lips are, how sharp his jaw is under Felix’s hands. Dimitri immediately responds, his mouth sliding open and his arms coming to encircle Felix’s waist with a gentleness Felix didn’t think possible. 

Felix wants to push, to bruise, to bite down on Dimitri’s skin and get a taste of the beast himself, but he finds his own desires falling to the wayside for the sake of the slow pull of Dimitri’s lips on his own, the slide of their tongues together, slow and warm in a way that Felix should hate. He hates it like he should hate Dimitri. 

The thought that he doesn’t hate Dimitri as much as he used to, as much as he should, forces Felix to pull away. His eyes flutter open, which is a mistake, because there’s Dimitri right in front of him. Dimitri, with his freshly washed hair pulled back into a loose bun, lips pink and already swollen.

And then Dimitri opens his eye, and Felix hates how small and exposed he feels under the look he gives him, piercing and full of some sort of wonder. 

“There,” Felix says, stepping back. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says. 

“What.” 

“I missed you.” 

Felix’s heart lurches. “You’ve never had me.” 

“Do I have you now?”

“No,” Felix sneers. 

Dimitri’s lips are soft, and they’re even softer against Felix’s neck, and Felix waits for the beast to come forward, to bite down on Felix’s pulse point and tear his throat out like he used to promise to, but Dimitri’s gentle, his movements languid and slow. If anything, this infuriates Felix even more, and he yanks Dimitri off of him by his ponytail. 

“What?” Dimitri asks, confused. 

“Nothing,” Felix says, and kisses him again. 

This is more Felix’s pace, he thinks, and as Dimitri brings up a hand to slide it under the collar of Felix’s shirtsleeves, Felix bites down on Dimitri’s lower lip, hard. He savors the growl that that pulls from Dimitri, pressing closer as the loose laces that crawl down his torso are pulled tight by Dimitri sliding one of his sleeves down his shoulder.

"Felix," Dimitri says again, and Felix reluctantly pulls away. "If you are so inclined, I would quite like to take off your shirt."

"Why are you talking like that," Felix says, but he allows Dimitri to untuck his shirtsleeves from his jodhpurs. 

Felix shudders at the feeling of Dimitri’s hands against his bare waist, warm and strong as they move up across his chest and over his shoulders. 

He shifts once his shirt is off, resisting the urge to cross his arms. “Are you- just drop it on the ground.”

Dimitri looks up from where he’s concentrating on folding Felix’s shirt into a small, flat square. “I don’t want to wrinkle your clothes,” he says, brow creasing. 

“You’re an idiot,” Felix says. But what isn’t idiotic is the way the setting sun shines through his curtains just enough to light up Dimitri’s hair, spinning strands of gold and gray that Felix can’t help but run his hands through it, taking out the loose ponytail and letting it fall around his shoulders in a way that Felix shouldn’t like as much as he does. 

Felix’s lips find the underside of Dimitri’s jaw, hands scrabbling at the buckles on his shoulders and chest. He hates the fact that Dimitri wore his fucking armor of all things. He kisses down Dimitri’s neck, relishing the way Dimitri’s breath hitches when he scrapes his teeth against the hollow of his throat. 

“Why are there so many damn buckles,” Felix hisses against Dimitri’s skin. Dimitri laughs, squeezing Felix’s hips. Felix’s cheeks color as Dimitri’s hands slide down and away. Dimitri steps back, nearly stumbling against the edge of Felix’s bed as he works on his straps and buckles with deft fingers. 

Felix wets his lips, watching as Dimitri strips off his armor, then the dark long sleeve shirt underneath. The effort musses his hair, and Felix’s hands immediately return to it, carding around the back of his head and pressing forward. Dimitri stumbles again, and Felix bites down on his collarbone, giving him a shove back. 

It’s almost thrilling, the way Dimitri moves so willingly under his grasp, falling onto the bed and shifting so he lays against the headboard. Felix crawls on after him, straddling Dimitri’s hips and regarding him with a cool, disinterested stare. 

Dimitri smiles up at him, a hint of cheekiness entering his voice as he says, “You’re blushing.” 

Felix bristles, rolling his hips down. He huffs out a laugh when Dimitri hisses, his hands going to seize the covers. “I don’t blush.”

Dimitri shrugs. “I will not argue the point.” 

Felix scrunches his nose. “Good.” He watches as Dimitri’s hands rise, settling on Felix’s thighs. 

Dimitri touches him like he wants a map of Felix’s body, broad hands making sweeping motions across the expanse of his thighs, thumbs barely brushing the inner seam of his trousers before sliding up his hips. 

Felix allows him his time, trying not to show exactly how much he enjoys the feeling of Dimitri’s hands caressing his skin, but the way Dimitri smiles as he gives his hips a small roll up into the bulge pressing against the seam of his jodhpurs tells him he’s not succeeding. 

And then Dimitri rubs his thumbs in mirrored swirls against Felix’s nipples, and Felix gives up all pretenses of pretending not to care. He lets out a shaky sigh. Dimitri, emboldened, rolls them again, faster this time before pinching them between thumb and forefinger. Felix keens, and Dimitri smiles, and then Dimitri’s hands are on Felix’s back pulling him down, down to his mouth where he kisses him slow and deep, allowing Felix’s tongue to sweep in and curl against the roof of his mouth. 

Dimitri’s hands settle on Felix’s lower back, fingertips just brushing under the hem of his trousers. Felix hates how much he enjoys the feeling, so his own hand finds Dimitri’s pec, giving it a squeeze and sucking Dimitri’s tongue into his mouth at the same time. Dimitri’s hips roll up. Felix scrapes his teeth against Dimitri’s tongue, then pulls back, fixing Dimitri with a stare. 

“I’m going to take off your pants.” 

“Okay,” Dimitri says immediately.

“You can say no.” Felix scowls. 

“I know I can.” 

“Good.” 

Felix sits back up, kneeling between Dimitri’s legs and starting on the laces at the front of his trousers. Dimitri props himself up on his elbows, lifting his wide hips so Felix can roll off those stupidly tight jodhpurs. Dimitri’s thighs are annoyingly thick and broad and Felix has to keep himself from lingering, from seeing if he can even fit his hands around a section of them. 

To be frank, though, he has other things that he’d like to get his hand around first, though, so he leaves Dimitri’s jodhpurs around his knees and licks his lips, glancing up at Dimitri for a nod of approval before shoving Dimitri’s smalls down around his hips and leaning forward to touch him. 

He can feel Dimitri holding his breath, and looks up to see him biting down on his lip, face red as he watches Felix’s hand as it starts to move.

“F- Felix.” 

Felix scowls, rubbing Dimitri with his thumb at the same time. “What.” 

Dimitri lets out a stuttered breath, lifting his gaze to Felix’s. “I love you.” 

The words don’t settle at first, and Felix merely smirks and turns back to his work. But then, his hand drops. Felix frowns, not daring to lift his head. His cock strains against its own laces, and the strange mix of arousal, confusion, and anger that he used to associate with Dimitri mere months ago rises back up inside of him. 

He sits back on the bed. “Why would you say that?” 

He can feel Dimitri’s confused frown, even without looking at him. “I thought- I mean, you kissed me.” He pauses, and Felix can feel the realization wash over him. “Oh, Felix.”

It’s almost instinctive, the way Felix shoves Dimitri away from him, bristling as his breath quickens. He has half a mind to just leave, to disappear, but his shirt is trapped under Dimitri and he doesn’t want to have to explain anything to anyone. 

Instead, he climbs off the bed, pacing while he pulls his hair up into a ponytail tight enough hurt. He tries to breathe, tries to think, but all that can go through his mind is the way Dimitri said his name, like he pities him, like Felix is stupid for not realizing that- fuck. He buries his face in his hands, nails digging into his brow. 

“Felix?” Dimitri says, but Felix can barely hear him. This is what it was like to be trapped underwater as a child, unsure which way is up and being jerked back and forth by forces out of his control, and Felix needs to breathe, he needs to- he needs to leave, he needs to get the fuck out of this tiny bedroom and get his breath back. 

“Felix?” Dimitri repeats, closer this time. Felix strikes out blindly, hitting something warm and solid, and he can barely make out Dimitri taking a step back and raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. 

Felix crowds himself into a corner of his room, barely resisting the urge to crouch into a ball, not while Dimitri of all people is here. Instead, he leans his head against the wall, hyperventilating as he digs his nails into the skin above his knees. 

“What happened?” Dimitri calls from far away. Felix is too focused on trying to breathe to hear him, though, black spots crawling into the edges of his vision. He blankly thinks that now Dimitri is off of the bed, he could grab his shirt and get out of here, but he can’t move, he can’t move without the fear of- something, he doesn’t know, but all he knows is he needs to keep his feet planted as he lets the waves roll over him. 

After what feels like an infinite amount of time, his breathing starts to slow, turning shaky and dry, his throat parched and eyes wet. 

When he finally turns, crossing his arms over his bare chest, he feels shitty and exhausted. He tries not to shiver as he completely ignores the almost entirely naked Dimitri standing in the middle of his room and crawls into bed, pulling his covers up over his chin. 

He wishes Dimitri were a worse person, who would just leave him to sleep this off, but he’s not surprised when Dimitri sits on the edge of the bed, hesitating before laying one comforting hand on Felix’s hip. 

“Can we speak about what just occurred?” Dimitri asks.

Felix doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at him. 

“Felix,” Dimitri says, and Felix wishes his face didn’t twitch every time Dimitri says his name like that. “I care for you. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable by revealing my true feelings.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Felix grumbles. 

Dimitri is quiet, and the hand at Felix’s hip stills in a movement Felix hadn’t even noticed. He’s unsure how he can still feel like he’s the vulnerable one, buried under these blankets, while Dimitri is dressed in his smalls and nothing else, but still acting like this is no different than a conversation they could be having in the dining hall. 

When Dimitri speaks again, Felix knows he’s going to hate what he says. “If you hate me, Felix, truly, you can tell me. I do not want to… be with you, bodily, if that is the case, but I will not be hurt and the feelings of care I have for you will not change.”

Felix doesn’t know what he wants. He could shove Dimitri’s hand off of him, tell him to get dressed and send him on his way. He could reach up and pull him down on top of him, kiss him until he forgets all about what just happened, even though he knows that Dimitri would never go for that option. He could just tell Dimitri what it is he thinks, what it is he feels, but he’s not even sure he knows what that is. 

He surprises himself when he starts speaking. “It’s stupid,” he says, closing his eyes against the feeling of Dimitri’s hand resuming its gentle minstrations. 

“What’s stupid?” 

“Don’t patronize me,” Felix snaps, then softens. 

“Apologies, I did not mean to.”

Felix takes a deep breath, willing his temper to stay down. “See? Stupid. You just- it’s stupid that you talk like that, like you don’t even know how much better than everyone you are. I liked you better as a beast.” 

Dimitri flinches, and Felix can tell that that was the wrong thing to say. He waits for Dimitri to get up, to get dressed, to march off and leave Felix to stew in his shame, but minutes pass with Dimitri not moving. He turns, though, removing his hand from Felix’s hip and clasping his hands in front of him, staring at the ground. 

Felix clenches his teeth. “Sorry.” 

Dimitri sighs. “No, it’s alright. I believe I deserve that.” He pauses, swallowing. “I’ve hurt many people, including you. It is… unrealistic for me to expect anything of you other than hate after the things I’ve done.”

Felix’s throat and chest feel tight. He’s worried that, even if he wanted to say what he’s thinking, he wouldn’t be able to force it out. 

“I will leave you be, now,” Dimitri says. “I apologize sincerely if I took advantage of you in any way.” 

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. “Wait.” 

Dimitri pauses, half off the bed, half on. He doesn’t say anything, which somehow makes this worse and easier at the same time. 

“I… don’t… hate you,” Felix grits out through his teeth, each word a breath. “It would be easier. If I could. But you’re- annoying, and I hate it, and you’re too… Dimitri for me to handle. But I don’t hate you.” 

“Oh,” is all Dimitri says, and Felix almost wants to scream. Instead, he reaches out, wrapping his hand around Dimitri’s wrist. Dimitri sits back down on the bed, facing Felix. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Dimitri confesses. 

Felix rolls his eyes, dropping Dimitri’s wrist and turning onto his side, away from Dimitri. He doesn’t know how to say,  _ Well, Dimitri, I hate that you can find a way to try to be happy after being a demonic beast for all of five years. It's aggravating and makes me feel like a shitty person for hating you.  _ At least, he’s unsure how to say that without coming off as either an asshole or a lovesick fool. 

And for once, he doesn't want to come off as an asshole. For once, he just wants to be able to say what he means and not have it be the wrong thing. 

"I don't know," he says. "Just… stop looking at me like that. Goddess. I just hate that you're trying to find a way to be happy because it makes me the asshole, when that should obviously be you." 

He's not expecting Dimitri to smile at that, and when Dimitri sees his glare, the smile drops in a way that Felix can tell is forced. 

"What," Felix barks. 

"Nothing," Dimitri says. "I have just never known you to be someone that cares about how other people see you, Felix."

"I don't care," Felix protests. 

Dimitri shrugs. "Maybe it's just me you care about, then." 

Felix scowls. He really, really, hates Dimitri. 

"Felix," Dimitri says. "I care about you, too." 

"Fine."

It doesn't change the fact, though, that Felix still feels like he's opened a door he can never close. Dimitri's reached straight into his chest and pulled out his heart, but it's not the bloody way Felix thought he'd die. Instead it's quiet, and calm, and cream sheets in a barren bedroom, blonde hair touched by the light of dusk and a single blue eye watching over him. 

"Now what." Felix isn't sure what he wants the answer to be, but he does know he can't stand another second of Dimitri looking at him like that. 

"Well," Dimitri says. "If you are so inclined," his hand slips up towards Felix's cheek, "I would-" 

Felix swats Dimitri's hand away. "You're the worst." 

Dimitri smiles, though, as Felix curls his fingers behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss. 

Felix doesn't mind so much now the slow, languid way Dimitri kisses him. He'll never admit it, but it's almost nice, Dimitri's tongue grazing his lip before sliding into his mouth, the way Dimitri's hand gently pulls out Felix's hair out of its ponytail, those thick fingers combing through it like Felix is something that can be loved. 

Felix lets his hands wander again, trying to allow himself the permission to linger on Dimitri's thighs, the tight muscle of his stomach and chest. He thinks he should hate this, this slow torture. But he doesn’t, not as much as he thinks he should. In fact, the way Dimitri feels, pliant and scarred under his hands, makes Felix start to believe that it’s okay for him to want this.

But then, Dimitri pulls away from the kiss with a pop, a hand coming up to rest against Felix’s chest. “I believe we should stop here for the evening.” 

Felix leans back on the pillows, frowning. “That’s fine. Why.”

Dimitri gives him a look that’s nearly too kind for Felix to bear. “Felix, you’re shaking.” He runs a comforting hand over Felix’s shoulder. It’s only then that Felix realizes his hands are trembling against Dimitri’s arms, and he pulls them back, pressing them against the sheets. 

“And?” 

Dimitri gives Felix an annoying, awful look before rolling off of him, pulling the covers back around them as he props himself up on his side. “We will have plenty of time to make love-” 

Felix buries his face in his hands. “Stop talking.” 

“-but I believe that, for now, considering the difficulty you have telling others how you feel and the emotional toll our earlier conversation had on you, we should take a break.” 

“Fine,” Felix bristles. “If that’s what you want.”

“Felix,” Dimitri says, settling onto the pillow beside him. Felix takes one look at him and turns away. “I think it’s what you want, too.” 

Even if it’s true, Felix doesn’t see any reason in confirming it vocally. Instead, he stares resolutely at the wall, frowning. “Fine,” he says. Then, after a beat. “Stay here.” 

“With you?” 

“Obviously.” 

Dimitri moves closer, pressing his chest against Felix’s back. It’s warm, and welcome, and Felix freezes for only a moment before letting himself relax against Dimitri. 

“May I…?” Dimitri asks, raising his arm above Felix’s side. 

Felix nods, and Dimitri settles, wrapping his arm around Felix’s waist. 

Felix knows he should feel idiotic, laying like this with nothing behind them and nothing to come, being in someone’s company just for the sake of being in it, but he doesn’t. It’s a foreign feeling, though, and one that may take some time to get used to. He thinks he could, though, as he presses closer against Dimitri’s chest, tentatively interlocking their fingers at his hip. 

He could get used to lazy hours when Dimitri doesn’t have to be a king, and he doesn’t have to be a duke. He could get used to slow kisses, broad shoulders, blonde hair under his fingers. He could even get used to Dimitri’s annoying habit of fishing out what Felix is thinking before Felix can even fish it out of his thoughts. 

It’s terrifying. It’s standing on the rail of a ship, staring at the dark sea below that could so easily drown him if he were to fall. It’s the view of the battlefield after the fighting has ceased, a sense of finality falling over the field like a fresh coat of snow. It’s Faerghan winters, familiar and yet different every year. It’s the passage of time, so slow and yet nipping at Felix’s heels as though he’ll run out of it soon enough. 

More than that, though, it’s comfort. It's warmth. It's home.

**Author's Note:**

> @bizzybee429 on twitter and @officialferdinand on tumblr!


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